


A New Years Kiss

by WilmaKins



Series: A Holiday Romance [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Civil War Fix-It, Come Swallowing, Fix-It, Hand Jobs, M/M, Make up sex, Making Up, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Team Iron Man friendly, Team Steve Friendly, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:08:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28216728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WilmaKins/pseuds/WilmaKins
Summary: It's been a week since Tony rescued Steve from certain death in the Canadian wilderness. A week since Tony made the rash decision to pause all of their issues, just for one night, just because it was Christmas.Now, he's sitting alone in the dark, nursing his regrets while he waits to see in the New Year...And then his phone rings.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: A Holiday Romance [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2067012
Comments: 39
Kudos: 141





	A New Years Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic for the 1k Milestone, and for everyone who wanted to see a sequel to A Christmas Truce.
> 
> Yet another Post-Civil War conversation, which I hope comes across as reasonably balanced- HOWEVER, as both characters make clear, this is not the end of the conversation for either of them, and that they still have lots they have to go through. Not all the issues get mentioned. And, as this story is about Steve making the first move on that journey, and as this is from Tony's POV, (and as I still consider myself Team Tony, even though I still love both my boys) there is possibly more focus on his side of things in this one.
> 
> HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

Tony looked at the drink that he’d just poured for himself and wondered whether he really wanted it.

He was on the top floor of the Tower, which, at least for the time being, was still his suite. He had all the papers drawn up to put the building on the market – some of which he’d even gotten as far as signing, before the whole thing became too fucking tragic for him. Maybe next week he’d finally give it up and hand them over to Pepper. New year, new start, and all that…

On the other hand, he had been saying that since October.

The rest of the building was alive with people, humming with laughter and dancing and probably a few intoxicated arguments. Tony’s suite was dark, and very still. He could feel the music pulsing in the floor beneath him, the muffled sound of the revelry coming from such a long way away. Tony felt as though he was in a bubble deep under the water. Sealed off from all of reality…

When Pepper had texted him the first time, to ask if he’d be making an appearance at his own New Year’s party, the idea was just deeply unappealing. By the third text it had seemed philosophically impossible. It was just… all too far away from where he was.

So, Tony had sent Pepper a half-assed lie about having bumped into a hot blonde in the lobby, simply because it seemed like an excuse she wouldn’t risk checking on. And then he’d poured himself a scotch, and resigned himself to toasting the New Year alone in the dark-

Except that now he wasn’t sure he even wanted to bother with the ‘toasting’ part. He knew from experience that alcohol never improved a mood like this. And anyway, it wasn’t as though he had much to toast – in the outgoing year, or the upcoming one.

He took it with him anyway, as he slumped heavily over to the couch. Truth be told, he would have much rather gone to bed… But it was eleven thirty on New Year’s Eve, and going to bed _now_ just seemed petulant. Instead, he let his head loll back into the couch cushions, his glass resting carelessly on his knee…

And thought of Steve.

His mind twinged wearily at the familiar pattern of thoughts – but he didn’t bother trying to fight them. He’d been trying not to think about Steve for the better part of a year now, and he was well acquainted with the many forms his failures took.

Sometimes he was able to drown out the memories with very forced thoughts about something else – which, really, just traded one mental anxiety for another. Standing with his shoulders painfully clenched, deliberately getting himself angry over some other triviality, could hardly be considered a victory over his obsession with Steve… Just another form it could take, sometimes.

But this wasn’t one of those times.

And it wasn’t one of those times those energised, emotional moments, when Tony could have at least thrown himself into whatever train of thought he couldn’t avoid. The nights he spent having imaginary arguments or crafting elaborate explanations, categorising and re-categorising his points in a hundred different ways… Those nights were frustrating and exhausting and always made him feel guilty, but at least they filled the time. There was some structure to his pain on nights like those, some way to engage with it.

But on nights like tonight… It just hurt. Tonight, Tony was too weary to analyse it, too melancholy to examine it. Nights like tonight the sadness was just _there_ , and Tony could only allow it to drift through and hope that it would pass.

He wondered, mindlessly, how long it had been since he had a _good_ night…

Unthinkingly, Tony took a sip of his drink – and then pulled a sour face at it, and set it aside. Somehow, it was both fierce and flavourless in his mouth, a bitter heat that pooled unpleasantly under his tongue…

No, he would not be toasting the New Year, this year.

A few images flashed through Tony’s head, like the flickering end reels of his father’s old home movies. Random moments from all the other parties they’d had at the Tower. Clint singing a Bryan Adams song into an upturned bottle at Steve’s birthday party. Nat and Sam doing shots at last years New Years Eve party.

…Climbing into Steve’s lap at the Christmas party last year, armed with a sprig of plastic mistletoe and a cheesy joke, and being pleasantly surprised that Steve actually kissed him… and kept kissing him…

The happiest memories were the most painful, now. These were usually the memories he flinched from, the moments he had deliberately buried under layers of righteous anger. But now Tony thought he might prefer thinking about last Christmas, if it meant he got a break from endlessly rehashing what had happened _this_ Christmas…

Of course, he didn’t get to make that choice. His mind kept going back to that cabin in Canada, sometimes dragging all of his other thoughts with it.

He wondered what would have happened if Steve had said _I love you_ last year instead…

Tony wrinkled his nose, and shook his head, as though he could physically dislodge that thought. He didn’t like that question. He didn’t like any of the places it could lead him. And he didn’t particularly like the memory of Steve saying _I love you_ , right now.

…Sometimes he did.

Or, at least, there had been times when he could think about those memories in isolation. Moments, usually late at night, when Tony could think of Steve’s chest under his splayed fingers, or feeling Steve’s heart racing under his lips, or the way Steve moaned Tony’s name as he came… and nothing else. Moments when Tony could remember how it felt at the time. In those moments, sometimes, Tony could even feel glad that it had happened, maybe even believe that it hadn’t been a ridiculous and reckless thing to do…

It never lasted

And Tony didn’t want that anyway. Not right now. He’d reached that particular stage of melancholy where he didn’t _want_ to be cheered up, the point where well-intentioned suggestions of happy music and fun distractions would’ve just jared with his mood. _._ Tony didn’t _want_ to remember that night and be happy-

And he didn’t want to remember it and be sad.

And then he thought of the letter that he had left next to Steve’s bed.

Tony didn’t much want to think about _that_ either, but he jadedly accepted that it was the least-worst option. It was a subject that fit with his listless frustration – and a subject he hadn’t run through for a few hours now. So maybe it would at least be a change of pace…

He wished he could remember the exact wording. He still couldn’t believe that he’d forgotten the exact wording – he’d spent long enough agonising over those few short lines.

Some terrible joke about the crappy flip phone that Steve had left for him, and a reassurance that the phone _he_ was leaving would get a better signal.

A message for Wanda, that Vision wanted to see her again and that Tony wouldn’t stand in their way.

An apology for his behaviour in the bunker – made in the most awkward, indirect possible terms… but still.

And a vague assurance that Tony would help them if they needed it, which had actually been the most difficult part. He’d thought about writing ‘ _I promise you, if you need me, I'll be there’_ – but he didn’t know what tone of voice he was writing it in, so in the end he’d dropped it. Actually, he hadn’t known what tone of voice he was using for the whole damn letter, whether he was hoping Steve would feel better or worse when he read it…

Thinking about it now, that was probably a good way to sum up the crisis that Tony had fallen into since he last saw Steve – he didn’t know whether he wanted it to have made things better.

He didn’t know whether that would actually be _worse_.

Now he realised that he had been actively holding onto his anger and pain. That he hadn’t wanted to ‘get over it’, or ‘move on’. That he didn’t want any of it to be _over_ . He didn’t want to admit that the fight between them was finished, because if he did then he had to accept everything that he’d lost. He didn’t want to let go of his hurt, because if he did it would be as though it never existed, like it never mattered… Like _he_ didn’t matter. And he didn’t want to get over Steve. He didn’t _want_ Steve to be a thing of his past, he didn’t want to accept that there were no more chapters to this story...

Tony had stared at that scrap of notepaper for a full ten minutes before he could bring himself to write _Dear Steve._ Trying to decide whether he was going with ‘we can forget about how angry I am, now that you’ve said you love me’ or ‘we can forget all about you saying you love me, because of how angry I still am’. There didn’t seem to be any middle ground. It was a choice between nurturing his rage or letting go of all of his feelings – and Tony wasn’t ready to commit to either, yet.

_And you don’t believe him, anyway._

Tony shook his head again, more violently this time. _That_ was very much the train of thought he was avoiding… Whether Steve even meant it, and what he meant _by_ it, and whether it mattered, even hypothetically… Those were questions Tony had been driving himself crazy with all week, questions he already knew he couldn’t answer-

Questions that broke his heart.

He glanced at his watch, an intricate designer timepiece that he had to squint to read… 11:40, or thereabouts. He let go of a slow breath and reassured himself, _just twenty more minutes._ Not that anything would change at midnight. But this was how he’d gotten through the months since Siberia, cutting them down into manageable pieces and meaningless milestones, willing himself through _until the end of this meeting, until the sun comes up, until this project is finished_ … On the one hand, it hadn’t fixed anything. But on the other hand – well, he’d made it this far.

He wondered where Steve was right now… The cabin was booked up until the end of the following week, but Tony really couldn’t remember if he’d mentioned that in his letter. He’d _meant_ to… Although, who knew whether Steve would stay there anyway. Maybe he had his own long-term plans to be getting on with. Maybe he didn’t trust Tony enough to take him up on that offer. Maybe he’d sensed the distress of a baby deer half a mile across the snowy wilderness, and had set out alone in the storm to help-

Tony hated himself for smiling at that.

And then, like a knife plunging into the very core of his reality, his phone rang.

His bones jumped at the shock of it, as a shout of alarm echoed in his own head. And then he recognised the sound, not simply as a phone ringing but as _the_ phone ringing-

As _Steve_ calling him.

Immediately, Tony’s mind was full of an angry static – he just _wasn’t_ in the mood for this, for even thinking about this-

Which was overwhelmed just as quickly by the memory of Steve standing in the snow, the blood spreading into cerise fractals through the frost on his uniform-

_What if he’s in trouble?_

_I_ _said_ _he could always call-_

All of this had run through Tony’s brain so quickly that he was still able to answer on the second ring.

“Hello?”

And there was the tiniest little intake of breath on the other end of the line, a sound that managed to be frightened and brave, stoic and defiant, all at once…

Tony knew that sound _so_ well.

“…Hi Tony,” Steve managed eventually. Tony felt an inch of relief as he noted that Steve didn’t sound panicked or injured – that there probably wasn’t an imminent catastrophe for him to deal with.

On the other hand, Steve did sound cold.

“Where are you?” Tony frowned. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m okay – there’s no problem,” Steve assured him, a little shiver in his voice. “Well, not like that, I mean…”

Tony let go of a relieved sigh – but he barely got through it before the irritation began to tighten in his ribs again. A little knot of tension gathered between his eyebrows, pulling his face into a petulant sneer… It seemed very _unfair_ that he should have to deal with this, that he’d be pushed into giving bad responses when he’d never consented to being asked.

He still didn’t know which tone of voice to use.

“So… why _are_ you calling me?” Came out flat and fatigued – more disappointed than angry. He heard another breath, slower and more deliberate, and he could so clearly picture Steve’s face. That punctured optimism, with just a little hint of temper…

“So…I got your letter, and…” Steve struggled, and then sighed, “to be honest, it made me want to apologise for mine.”

Tony huffed out a joyless laugh, that tension in his forehead sharpening into an actual headache. He knew he was annoyed by that, _angry_ at that… But the words didn’t form as quickly as the feelings. Before he could even work what his objection was, Steve had carried on.

“And I want you to know, I _did_ know that my letter was really fucking annoying, even before this,” he spoke quickly now, like he knew he might’ve already put his foot in it. “I, uh, I mean, I knew even when I was writing it that it was coming out all wrong, and it wasn’t saying what I wanted it to say… And I thought maybe there just was no good way to say it, but I couldn’t not say anything, and I wanted to make sure you had some way to contact me, and…” he cut himself off with a sigh. There was another brave little breath, the shivering more audible now. “And yeah, I knew it was bad… But, yeah, maybe I didn’t think about… About how you’d feel, reading it. Not really. And I don’t know if that was the point you were making, but… Well, you made it, anyway.”

Tony hated himself even more for smiling at _that_.

He didn’t even know why he did – he was still angry about this.

And he didn’t know why he was angry about this.

And he didn’t actually _know_ if he’d been trying to make a point when he wrote that letter.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’d not really thought about how hard it is to write a letter,” Tony mumbled… He didn’t know why he’d said that, either. “I mean, it’s been forty years since any normal person did that…”

“Not to me,” Steve muttered.

Tony’s heart gave a confused clench.

“So… is that all you called to say?” He bit out.

“No, I… I just figured, it should never have been a letter,” Steve replied sadly. “It just made me think that I really should’ve called you, or… That there were things I should have said. Just that… I’m sorry, this was a really stupid way to start with all this. I’m…bad at this stuff…”

“Is _this stuff_ you have to say outside?” Tony asked, with an edge of irritation that masked a genuine feeling of concern. “I can hear you shivering.”

“Well, I don’t know,” Steve answered, nervously. “…It depends if you’re going to let me in or not.”

“What?” Tony frowned – and then the penny dropped. “Wait – where are you?”

“…On the landing pad,” Steve answered, gingerly.

“Why are you – _how_ are you-” Tony stammered, already on his feet and striding over to the wide glass doors at the other end of the room. He caught the shape of Steve, concealed in the shadows and partly obscured by Tony’s own reflection… But still, Tony knew him at once. He gave a jagged wave of his hand and the door slid open… and there he was. Standing there in jeans and a short sleeved T-shirt, his jaw clenched against the cold, little flecks of icy rain sparking in his hair.

 _…Oh, I_ _do_ _love you._

It hit Tony even harder now than it had the last time he’d seen him. Perhaps it was that hopeful flash of defiance in his eyes, or that courageous fragility in the way he held himself… or the fact that he did look especially pretty, in the moment…

… _Damn you Steve Rogers. Damn it all._

“Get inside before someone sees you,” Tony snapped, squeezing his eyes shut and gesturing wildly towards the living room.

He didn’t look up again until he felt Steve settle into an awkward pause somewhere behind him – and then for a moment, he could only stare at him.

“Well, this is surreal,” he said, eventually. Steve smiled, shyly.

“I know.”

“ _How_ did you…?” Tony pointed back towards the landing pad, a thousand feet above a busy New York street.

“A bit of help from Sam,” Steve shrugged.

“Why, where are they-”

“Probably miles away already,” Steve assured him. “It was a drop off and go kind of a deal…”

Tony considered him for a moment. He would’ve liked to wonder what Steve had told the others about this little errand – but he didn’t want to acknowledge that he cared.

“And what’s your plan for when I kick you out?” He asked instead, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

“Be very cold for a few hours?” Steve winced. Tony softened in surrender.

“You have literally no concept of how much paperwork there would be, if anyone saw a frost-bitten Captain America standing on my roof,” he sighed. And then there was a pause. “So, when are they coming back for you?”

“Six am,” Steve blushed. Tony breathed a laugh.

“Bit presumptuous.”

“Well, it’s fifty percent impertinence, fifty percent logistics, to be honest with you.”

“Well, story of our lives, eh?” Tony scoffed.

Their eyes met. It was Steve who glanced away first.

“Well… _come in then_ ,” Tony exhaled, strolling past Steve and back in the general direction of the couch. But he didn’t sit, and neither did Steve. Tony saw the way that Steve looked him up and down, the subtle little swallow… He couldn’t help wondering if Steve was thinking any of the same things he was.

“So, my letter annoyed you,” Tony muttered bitterly, pointedly ignoring the racing of his heart. He could see the blush running up Steve’s neck, even in the dark.

“Sorry,” he breathed, quietly. “To be honest… I don’t know, it _was_ reading your letter that made me think – _really_ think – about how angry you’d have been, reading mine. And I _was_ hurt that you hadn’t stayed to say it to my face, even though _I_ don’t have any right to expect that… which did make me think, you must’ve – that maybe you thought the same… And, I just thought…” and he pinched his lips, and dropped his eyes. “I don’t know if you _were_ making a point with that letter – but you deserved to make it. _If_ you were making a point, maybe you deserved to know it worked…”

Tony felt a nauseous conflict drag through his gut. He didn’t know how to reconcile this wave of affection with this surge of irritation. How to explain this resistance to saying all the things he’d been yelling in his head for a year. _Why,_ if he was still so angry, he should care about crushing Steve now, why he should feel such sympathy for him or be so reluctant to ruin this. _Why_ , if Tony loved him this much, he should care about ‘letting him win’, why he’d _resist_ the prospect of making it better.

It wasn’t so much that he didn’t know how he felt, as that he felt literally everything.

In the end, it was petulance and cowardice that won out. Tony knew that his next words were more about reasserting his right to the moral high ground than any imperative to say them.

And because he wasn’t brave enough to commit to anything more personal.

“For what it’s worth – I _am_ sorry for what happened in the bunker,” he said, very stoically. He might even have been using the ‘Captain America’ voice.

“Me too,” Steve whispered. Tony just shook his head.

“No, that wasn’t the apology Steve – that’s just the headline. I’m not done,” he frowned, almost teasingly… “If ‘I’m sorry for what I did’ was good enough, I _could’ve_ just left it at the letter, now couldn’t I?”

And he really didn’t know if _this_ was him making a point. Whether he’d meant that as a dig at Steve, to highlight just how bad his apologies were, and make clear that Tony agreed – Steve’s letter _was_ really fucking annoying.

… Or if, maybe, part of it was him trying to give Steve a hint.

“And it wasn’t good enough, and I _am_ sorry,” Tony hurried on, having to focus himself on the apology he was making. “That whole thing was… probably the worst thing I’ve ever done, which I know is saying something. I was just… hurt, and angry, and I know that’s not a reason to lash out like that _anyway_ , even if it _had_ been his fault… But I do know it wasn’t.”

He saw the surprise flash up in Steve’s eyes, his entire body flinching upright under the impact of this sudden swerve in his expectations… And, belatedly, Tony remembered some of his genuine remorse. The personal guilt that probably should’ve motivated this entire speech began to collect in his chest, bleeding into his words as he went on.

“I know Bucky didn’t have a choice about… my parents – and I know _Bucky_ didn’t have a choice about whether you lied to me over it, or… any of the stuff I was really mad about. Honestly… I went after Bucky because I was mad at _you_ , which is… awful, anyway. And no matter how mad I… _am_ , at you… Trying to kill your best friend for it was just…” and he sighed, heavily, as he realised there just wasn’t any other word, “ _evil._ And I’m sorry-”

“It wasn’t _evil_ , Tony,” Steve cut in, aghast. Tony looked up in time to see the hurt and indignation on his face, before it softened into something more sympathetic. “I always knew that wasn’t… _You._ That all of that happened because you… Because _I_ broke you.”

Tony wasn’t sure whether he wanted to argue with that. On the one hand, it was patronising and presumptuous, and part of Tony would’ve liked say, _you didn’t_ _break_ _me, you arrogant bastard_.

…Of course, a much larger part of him knew that was a total lie. And _that_ part of him had wanted to call Steve and yell, _you broke my heart!_ at around 4am every day for the last eight months. So.

“And I don’t know if there _is_ anything you could’ve done to stop that from happening,” Steve pushed on, before Tony had the chance either way. “I think, if you’d been in your right mind or had any control at that moment, it wouldn’t have happened… and I don’t think you really had any choice about _getting_ to that moment. That was me.”

Tony felt his chest seize. He was overwhelmed with an emotion that he didn’t want to name.

He couldn’t call it ‘hope’. _Hope_ wasn’t uncomfortable and terrifying, like this…

 _Hope_ was a good feeling… wasn’t it?

Whatever this was, Tony actually felt a physical urge to flinch from it – the same primal reaction people have to spiders and wounds. He very nearly threw his hands up, the words ‘ _please, don’t’_ were already forming on his lips-

But he didn’t have to say them. Steve saw the resistance building under Tony’s skin and paused, nervously.

“Look, I know I don’t have any right to have this conversation,” Steve went on, more cautiously. “I just… realised I never had the right to take this conversation away from you, I guess. That it should’ve been your choice… So, if you just don’t want to hear this, that’s fine – I know this is the most inconvenient, awkward way I could have done this, but I _can_ leave, and stay out of sight until Sam comes back… If that’s what you want.”

Tony huffed an irritated breath before he could stop himself. Truthfully, he was annoyed _because_ that was the right thing to say. Maybe it fed into that low current of competition and conflict that ran beneath _all_ their interactions – even the good ones. Tony couldn’t help but recognise that this was definitely a goal for Steve, that he’d successfully disarmed one of Tony’s potential arguments against him… That he was still counting points.

Or maybe it was simply that now Tony _had_ to answer that question – and he couldn’t even be mad at Steve for asking.

So… Did he want to listen to this?

Tony could feel that memory stalking in the shadows at the back of his mind. The moment he was trying so hard not to revisit…

_Don’t Bullshit me Rogers! Did. You. Know?_

Tony had wanted to listen to Steve’s answer then… because he’d still had some faith in it. Tony had _expected_ Steve to look shocked – offended even. For him to immediately reassure Tony that _of course_ he didn’t know…

That they were at least as close as Tony thought they were, even if they’d never be as close as he’d like – that their entire relationship wasn’t a lie. That Steve wouldn’t leave him out of something like that, that he would have trusted him with something like that – that he wouldn’t have let Tony tear himself in half for days, destroying everything he ever cared about, on only half the facts… That he _cared_ too much to have done something like that…

That Tony hadn’t been _that_ deluded, this whole time.

But Steve hadn’t said any of those things. Steve had just stood there and stared at him, before destroying Tony’s life in a single word.

…Tony had so nearly whispered, _I thought we were friends._ And wouldn’t that have been pitiful?

…He’d hit Steve _instead_ of saying it – which was worse.

So, maybe it would’ve been better to have just walked away. To have never asked Steve if he knew. For Tony to have lived his entire life with the horrible worry that maybe Steve had lied to him, rather than being hit with the certainty that he had…

Steve raised his eyebrows questioningly, shifting slightly under the weight of the silence… and Tony let go of a defeated sigh. Loathed though he was to admit it, he _still_ wanted Steve to say something and make it all better – so much so that he was terrified of giving him the chance.

… So much so that he was going to risk it anyway.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Tony asked, very quietly. And Steve took a deep, steadying breath, pulling himself back up into his shoulders before he answered,

“Because I was scared, and because I was being selfish… And because I’m in love with you.”

Tony did a literally double take.

…Nope, didn’t have a snappy comeback for that one.

“What?” He frowned. “You lied to me _because_ you loved me?”

“Because I _am_ in love with you,” Steve corrected, pointedly. “And… I didn’t want to lose you. And I didn’t want to hurt you… I meant to tell you. I kept planning to tell you, and then just… not being able to get the words out. I kept thinking about _having_ that conversation, and how awful it would be… That I didn’t have any answers for you. And I couldn’t have that conversation without mentioning Bucky, and what was I going to do if you were furious at him, if you just needed to yell about him or… And then more time had passed, and I knew you’d ask me why I hadn’t told you before, and… All that time we _were_ getting closer… Or, I don’t know, I thought maybe we were…” his voice trailed into a shy mutter, before he cleared his throat and forced himself on, “and… being with you made me feel safe, and happy, and I just didn’t want to ruin it. And I hated myself every time you mentioned your parents, and every time I had to lie to you, but every time I thought about coming clean I just… I just hoped you’d never find out,” he surrendered, and then hurriedly added, “or, that I’d at least be able to find Bucky first, and figure out exactly what happened before I told you, or, you know, maybe it would turn out that it wasn’t him, or that maybe it wasn’t even true… Which I never really thought would happen, but I still hoped…” He exhaled slowly, dropping his head into his hand and rubbing his eyes. “I’m sorry, this more annoying than the letter-”

“No, it isn’t,” Tony interrupted, his voice sincere and slightly tearful. Steve glanced up, and their eyes met.

Well, Tony hadn’t been expecting _that_ . That hadn’t been _any_ of the hypothetical Steve responses Tony had dreamed up… Even in the really good scenarios. He didn’t have a prepared reaction to this, and it seemed to be taking an awfully long time for one to form-

But under that numb static in his head there was the strangest urge to smile.

He swallowed, and glanced away. And then, purely to take the edge off, he added, “no, the letter was _really_ fucking annoying.”

Steve snorted a surprised laugh, and then quickly corrected himself.

“I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t… think you’d care about _me_ , or… _us_ , like that. I mean, I know that doesn’t excuse the ‘rattling around the mansion’ line, or whatever it was – honestly, I wrote so many versions of that letter I can’t remember what stayed in-”

“What?” Tony cut in abruptly.

“…I’m sorry. I’ve tried so hard to remember-”

“No, no,” Tony shook his head. “I mean _what_ do you mean you didn’t think I cared about you?”

“No! I mean – God, I am _really_ bad at this…” Steve struggled. “I _mean_ … I’d just convinced half the Avengers to quit the team and become criminals, all to stop a threat that wasn’t even real. I’d fucked the entire political landscape and left you with all that stress, and I hadn’t even told you why I was doing it… You never had a chance to make that work, and I didn’t even warn you… And what happened with Rhodey, and what happened in the bunker and… I just thought, after everything I’d done, you wouldn’t want to hear about how I _felt_ . That if I said, ‘I’m sorry I did all that, but I still love you’, you’d just think… So what? Why wouldn’t I still love you – _you_ hadn’t fucked up… And… Well, I _didn’t_ think you’d care if I loved you. I knew you’d be mad about all the things I did, and all the damage it caused, but I didn’t think you’d…” he squeezed his eyes shut, and shook his head. “And then I read your letter, when you were apologising for the bunker, and you’d written _I was lashing out at you for not wanting to be with me, and lashing out at Bucky because you liked him more, and it was all very childish_ , and I-”

“Did I write that?” Tony blurted out, somewhat embarrassed. That sounded awfully honest for something he’d written… But Steve just pinched a sad smile and nodded his head. “…Wow. Yeah, I can’t remember much of what I wrote either, so, you know, don’t feel bad…”

“…It broke my heart, Tony,” Steve told him, so sincerely. “It _never_ occurred to me that you’d think I didn’t like you-”

“Really?” Tony interjected sceptically.

“No, I thought you’d think _I_ was an ass, not that you’d think I thought you were,” Steve explained… and Tony had to repeat it twice in his head before he could be confident that there was actually some strange logic in that sentence…

“…You can see why I thought you _didn’t_ care about me,” Tony said in a low, level voice… Talking to himself more than Steve, really…

Actually processing what Steve was telling him…

Maybe even thinking about letting this idea in…

“Why I’d think, if you cared about me, you’d have done things differently…” He continued to muse.

“And why does Pepper think you’re missing your own party?” Steve asked, knowingly. Tony frowned for a second before he realised why Steve was asking.

“Told her I was with a hot blonde I’d just run into…” He admitted sheepishly.

“And I know you’ve told her bigger lies than that, even when she was your girlfriend, and I’m not saying it’s the same – I’m just saying that, just because you lie, or even if you mess up, it doesn’t mean you don’t love that person,” Steve told him, carefully, like he wasn’t sure if he was stepping onto thin ice.

“Well, that wasn’t really a lie,” Tony muttered, “that was really just incredible foresight…” And Steve huffed another laugh, while Tony gave him a little nod, _I take your point though._

…Wait.

…Did he?

Did he actually _believe_ that Steve loved him, that these really were his reasons, that this was how it had all happened?

…Oh, God, but that would mean-

“And I know that this isn’t everything,” Steve sighed. “And… Honestly, not all of my apologies are this easy, even though I know there are more of them. It’s not that I’m _not_ sorry for the things I did. I am sorry that I was so unhelpful when we were discussing the Sokovia Accords, and I am sorry for the ridiculous, reckless way that I helped Bucky, and I am sorry I fell into a trap, as it turns out… But I can’t say I’m sorry I didn’t sign the Accords and I can’t say I’m sorry I helped Bucky and I can’t say I wouldn’t try to stop a threat like that. And…Maybe that’s another reason the letter was so bad… And, I don’t know, maybe all of that means we can’t get past this and you can’t forgive me, but-”

“None of that is why I was mad,” Tony told him, softly.

“…Well, I know why you’d be mad about that, too-”

“No,” Tony shook his head, fighting the oddest urge to laugh, “no, not really.”

“…No?” Steve hesitated, a genuine confusion in his eyes.

“No…” Tony repeated, realising a lot of this as he was saying it. “No, I understand making a mistake, or digging yourself into a hole. Better than most people, actually. If you’d have said _any_ of that at the time, about just being scared and thinking you could fix it – even if you’d never mentioned how you felt about me… I’d have got it. I even _wanted_ to think that maybe it was something like that – but you never said it. And what you _did_ say just made it seem like you were sorry people had to get hurt, but obviously it was for the greater good… Like you weren’t _really_ sorry for any of it…” He saw the blush deepen across Steve’s cheeks, and felt an immediate pang of affection. “But it wasn’t even that, really. _That’s_ not why I was mad, either – I was really just mad because I was _hurt_ . And I was hurt, because… because _I_ thought we were… closer than that. I thought we were at least _friends_ . And then when I found out that you’d lied to me, and you seemed to expect me to _understand_ that … And you didn’t really seem sorry. You didn’t seem to feel sorry _for_ me – which I know sounds pathetic, but-”

“No, Tony-” Steve interrupted, sounding almost tearful. “God, I’m so sorry Tony…” But then he shut his mouth and shook his head, _I’m sorry, go on._

“…It just felt like, all this time I’d been thinking that we were… Something, at least. And then something important happens, and suddenly I’m just some guy you know. Someone you obviously didn’t want to hurt, because you don’t want to hurt anyone… but when someone you really loved was in trouble, it was going to be you and your _real_ friends – and I don’t even get to know what’s going on. And then I’m just one item on the debrief, things you could’ve done better…and you’re writing to me saying you wished we agreed about the Accords.”

“I’m sorry Tony,” Steve breathed, taking a little step forward. Tony dropped his arms.

“I’m not saying all of this is right, or fair, I’m just trying to explain-”

“No, Tony,” Steve shook his head, taking another step. “I _am_ sorry. And this apology _is_ easy, this is the bit I have always been sorry for. I am so sorry I hurt you. That’s not just an item on a debrief, that’s… _that’s_ the thing I really regret. That I always regretted, even at the time. I hate that I hurt you, and I’d do anything to take it back. But it wasn’t that I didn’t care about hurting you – it wasn’t that I didn’t like you, or that I didn’t trust you, or that I thought anything was more important than you…” another step forward, so that he was standing just a few feet away from him. “It’s just that I was still hoping I wouldn’t have to choose, that I could make it so that _no one_ got hurt… That I could keep what we had. I got in over my head, and I made a mess of it, and if I could I’d do everything differently… And I’m sorry.”

Tony had been holding his breath the whole time Steve was talking. When he finally exhaled there was a rush of light-headedness that seemed to spread through his entire body, making everything seem lighter and more vibrant. And, before he could work out what to call this feeling, he realised what it _wasn’t_ -

That he _wasn’t_ angry right now, for the first time in nearly a year.

Even that night in the cabin, when he was recklessly giving into his desire for it to all _just go away_ , there had still been that little splinter of hurt, festering under the surface.

…That’s why he hadn’t believed it when Steve said he loved him. Why he’d been too scared to even let himself wonder what Steve meant by that. Why there had been that bittersweet aftertaste to every moment of it, that sad shadow cast by all the things he wasn’t letting himself think.

But now…

Tony didn’t even know if that had made everything better – he was so overwhelmed, he’d completely forgotten the list of grievances he’d been studying for months. He couldn’t remember what their political disagreements were, or what issues underpinned them…

He just knew he _felt_ better.

That, right now at least, he really wasn’t hurt. All those sharp and heavy emotions that had burdened his every movement since last April, just… gone. The relief was dizzying. He literally felt his shoulders loosen, the constant, dull ache in his back finally easing…

Everything _looked_ different.

Tony was scared to call it an epiphany. He’d had too many of these moments of enlightenment, when everything suddenly seemed to fit into one coherent image, and everything could be answered by this one miraculous insight… only for it to disappear when the light changed. Experience had taught him that these moments were more about his mood than anything else. That it was only ever a question of which part of it he was looking at…

And, right now, he was looking at _Steve_.

And he didn’t see the man he’d been yelling at for the last eight months, or even the man he’d cried over… Tony saw Steve the way he used to, back when he first fell in love with him. He saw all those heroic qualities and human frailties and endearing little elements unique to Steve, and without that filter of doubt or regret.

…He remembered all the guilt and shame he’d felt in the last year, and without the layer of pain and anger to blur it.

“Oh, I’m sorry Steve…” he whispered – and he saw Steve’s eyes widen in alarm, which only made Tony love him more.

“No, Tony…” Steve breathed, closing the gap between them and putting his hands on Tony’s arms. Tony felt his heart leap, his skin tingling as though all of his blood had rushed to meet Steve’s palms. “Why are _you_ sorry?”

“Oh, lots of reasons,” Tony answered sadly. “There’s a list, actually. I know there is – there was the list from the nights I was mad at you, and the list from the nights I was mad at me. And I really wish I could remember _anything_ right now…”

He saw the thought flicker behind Steve’s eyes, the nervous pursing of his lips. Tony raised his eyebrows, _no, go on._

“Well, it doesn’t _have_ to all be right now…” Steve suggested carefully. “I mean, I know I’ve kind of dropped this on you… and, okay, I know it’s complicated. I have to leave in the morning, and I don’t know when I’d be able to see you again… But, if you wanted to, we still could. I could call you. I know we’re not going to make all of this better all at once, and I don’t know what we can make of it, but… Maybe we don’t _have_ to do it all at once…” he gave his shoulders a little shrug, his palms still pressed against Tony’s arms. “Not that you have to apologise, for me-”

And it occurred to Tony-

This hadn’t even been on his list of regrets, before tonight… But it seemed quite obvious now. He could apologise for _this_ , right now.

“No, well, you were always more understanding of me,” he smiled. “You always accepted my apologies, and forgave my mistakes… And I’ve always been really hard on you. I expected so much more of you, and then I took it for granted, and then when you did make a mistake I judged it so harshly-”

“Tony-”

“And I’m sorry you didn’t know I was in love with you,” Tony told him, firmly. And then, when Steve fell quiet, Tony corrected himself, “I _am_ in love with you.”

He saw Steve’s breath catch, the hint of a smile behind his shock.

A warmth bloomed up in Tony’s chest, swelling into his limbs. His hands moved of their own accord, naturally finding their way to Steve’s hips, his body leaning into the motion.

And then he saw something snag Steve’s attention, and only then did Tony recognise the noise outside – the crescendo of cheers and whistles and car horns, and the collective shout discernible above the increasing roar-

“ _Four! …Three! …Two! …One!”_

The sky outside exploded into elaborate displays of blue and gold and red, as the city beneath them erupted in celebration. The room was flooded with flickering light and dramatic shadows, surrounded by a wall of distant sound.

Steve smiled.

“Happy New Year,” he whispered.

“Happy New Year,” Tony smiled back…

And leant up, and kissed him.

That first kiss was soft, and chaste – like it really might’ve been a simple New Year’s kiss. Tony felt the same little flutter of excitement in his stomach as he’d always felt whenever Steve touched him. A pure, almost innocent joy in the _reality_ of him, of really _having_ the warmth and shape and taste of him right there, after all those many daydreams…

And then Tony leant back just enough to look up at Steve, the solid strength of him still pressed up against Tony’s chest, his hands still curled protectively around Tony’s shoulders… The blue of his eyes was flecked with gold, tiny little sparkles clinging to those impossibly long eyelashes, his lips full and soft and _right there_ …

Tony felt a plunging sense of exhilaration, right to the very pit of his stomach... and an entirely different sort of thrill, when he realised that nothing was going to stop it. That there were none of the usual breaks on his reaction to Steve – there wasn’t going to _be_ an abrupt spike of shame or doubt or anger to tear him out of this moment.

He was just going to like this… and keep liking this… until Steve stepped away.

And Steve didn’t step away.

Steve let his hands stroke down along Tony’s arms, and then over his back, pulling him close again. Tony tilted his head up, his eyes falling shut as Steve kissed him, gently, sweetly… And again… And again…

A trembling heat flared up under Tony’s skin, melting what was left of his resistance. He parted his lips, softening into Steve’s embrace, letting Steve kiss him deeper. Sighing, Steve snaked one arm around Tony’s waist, letting his other hand stroke up over the back of his neck, into his hair. A thousand electric shivers ran down along Tony’s spine-

And then a low jolt of friction, as Steve moved against him.

It was Steve that gasped, breaking the kiss, his breath still hot against Tony’s lips. For a moment there wasn’t a thought in Tony’s head. Just the pounding in his chest and the fluttering in his veins and that compulsive pleasure now throbbing in his hips.

And then he saw that questioning expression flicker across Steve’s features, almost pleading, his fingertips still pressing against Tony’s skin…

He could guess some of the things that Steve was thinking, right now.

Probably some of the same questions that had just flooded into Tony’s head, all at once.

Oh, this had all just become an entirely different level of complicated, hadn’t it?

Tony was briefly overwhelmed by all the issues he’d never imagined would apply. Thrilled and terrified to even be asking himself whether he could actually _be_ with Steve…

He’d only ever pictured life with Steve as a series of vignettes, never troubling himself to wonder how they’d fit together – it had always been a purely hypothetical imagining, a _fantasy_. 

He was suddenly very aware that forgiving Steve, and loving Steve, and actually having a life with Steve, were all very different things. That he had no idea what that life would even look like.

…And that was without Steve being a wanted fugitive.

…Oh, and all those things they _did_ still have to talk about. All the other arguments and grievances and miscommunications – things Tony hadn’t even thought to reconsider yet.

Tony really didn’t know what the hell they were doing.

…But he _did_ know-

“Tony…” Steve whispered, a question hidden in his tone. _Please._

“You know, I think you’re right,” Tony announced, softly, keeping his arms wrapped firm around Steve’s waist. Steve raised his eyebrows, and Tony smiled. “Well, there are probably still so many questions and so many things to talk about… and we can’t do that all at once. Maybe we do just have to do that one step at a time.”

And Steve let go of a little breath, the more adorable look of tempered optimism on his face.

“…But… you want to…”

“Yeah,” Tony nodded, shyly. “Yeah, I’ll call you. And… I’ll find some way to see you again, and we can talk some more…” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Tony grinned, leaning into him. “But… Seeing as you can only be here for a few more hours… Maybe we should leave the talking, for now…” And he glanced up to watch Steve’s eyes widen, before he dropped his head and took Tony’s mouth again-

He wasn’t quite as gentle, this time.

This time, Steve kissed him roughly, grabbing at Tony’s hair, forcing his lips further apart as he pulled him hard against his chest. Tony fell into it – into the kiss, into Steve, into this intoxicating feeling of total freedom. He slid his hands up along Steve’s sides, possessive and desperate, gathering the fabric of his T-shirt under his nails as he went. Revelling in the strength of Steve’s body and the softness of his lips… and nothing else. No underlying anxiety, no aftertaste of guilt…

Oh, this was _wonderful_ -

He clawed his way into Steve’s embrace, kissing him hungrily, his low moaning muffled against Steve’s lips. One hand found its own way under the back of Steve’s shirt as Tony instinctively sought out more of him, his mind running ahead to ideas of pushing Steve down on the couch and tearing that T-shirt off of him and running his palms over those beautiful shoulders-

But then his fingers traced over a closed cut on Steve’s back… And another idea occurred to him, vivid and complete and in all ways better.

Panting heavily, Tony broke away. A wave of giddiness flooded through him, his limbs turning to water in Steve’s arms – it took him a few deep, deliberate breaths before he could manage to speak,

“Come to bed.”

Steve’s face lit up with the most beautiful smile. Tony felt a sharp tingling in his pit of his stomach, a feeling that was so foreign and so familiar all at once. He remembered this attraction. This simple, immediate reaction to Steve, this physical appreciation of this perfect, pretty form… It had been obscured by anger and hurt and doubt for so long that Tony had become accustomed to an entirely different version of it, a confusing, complicated, shameful copy of it, almost forgetting how it used to be…

But it used to be like _this_.

He slid his hand into Steve’s, and felt the gentle strength of Steve’s grip warm all the way along his arm…

And, oh, the joy of _knowing_ that Steve would follow. The relief of not having to plan the aftermath – of not even having to force his worries quiet, for the sake of the moment…

It was a freedom that just continued to dawn on him, as they made their way to the bedroom. As he remembered more of the fears that didn’t apply anymore, more of the things he _wouldn’t_ be chastening himself for in the morning-

He could think all of these wonderful things about Steve, without asking what that said about him.

He could give to Steve, without wondering what it would really cost him in the long run.

He could be kind to Steve, without worrying that it would be a concession on his part…

And, God, he missed that.

All those years he’d spend dreaming of doting on Steve, thinking up ways to be nice to him, wishing he could take that pain away… He’d forgotten all that, since Siberia. But it had seemed so natural at one time, to respond to all the good in Steve with kindness and affection, to have fantasies that were uncompromised and without caveats and… just… _nice_. This was the first time that Tony had felt this in so long, and yet now he could hardly believe it had ever been anything different-

This was just _right_.

They barely paused at the foot of Tony’s bed, their hands reaching for one another impatiently – instinctively. When Steve pulled him close again Tony was smiling too much to kiss him properly. He was getting increasingly high on this surge of happiness, more delighted by everything the more delighted he was. His movements were messy and demanding as he clawed Steve’s T-shirt over his head, impatient to feel Steve’s bare skin under his hands. And then he ran his eyes over Steve’s perfect broad shoulders, and the smooth expanse of his chest…

… The mottled bruises and just-healed wounds.

_Oh, my beautiful Steve._

Tony could hardly believe he hadn’t felt this sympathy for him an hour ago. It seemed so obvious now.

“Oh Steve…” he breathed, running a finger over the barely-visible bullet wound he’d helped to bind just a week ago… He knew how quickly Steve healed. How badly he must’ve been hurt, for there to be any evidence of it now.

Steve placed his hand over Tony’s, gentle but firm, and guided him to lay his palm over his heart. For a moment Tony just absorbed him. The rhythm of his pulse, the rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his skin…

And then he caressed his fingertips into Steve’s muscle, before slowly stroking his palm up, over his shoulder, as he leant into him again. He brought his hand to the side of Steve’s face as he kissed him – deeper, slower kisses now, his other arm wrapping tight around Steve’s waist in a way that was more giving than grasping.

He wanted to indulge Steve.

He wanted to be kind to Steve.

He wanted to make it better.

He felt Steve grip him by the hips, his thumbs curling over the waistband of Tony’s pants and rubbing little circles against Tony’s bare skin… But there was something almost hesitant about it. Like he was being careful of something. Tony broke the kiss and looked up at him, and saw the briefest flicker of a question across his brow.

“Is this what you want?” Tony asked, his hand still cradling the side of Steve’s face.

“Yes,” Steve assured him, easily. “I just don’t want to do something thoughtless or dangerous. I never thought this was going to happen. I haven’t thought about any of this. Basically, the _only_ thing I know right now is how much I want this – and I don’t want to fuck up again, just because I wanted it so much…”

Tony was so full of endearment and affection that it broke out of him in a grin. Which was something of a strange reaction – because, actually, he found that whole thing heart-breaking.

“Is this what _you_ want?” Steve went on, managing to sound firm and fragile at the same time.

“ _Yes_ ,” Tony smiled, “I’ve wanted this for about as long as I’ve known you. I love you.” He heard Steve breathe a soft little _oh_ , as he leant into his neck, so that he could whisper close to his ear, “I trust you, Steve.”

He felt Steve’s grip tighten, hard, his whole body tensing as though that was the hottest thing Tony could possibly have said.

“I swear to you, I’ll never lie to you again,” Steve promised.

“Actually, you might,” Tony corrected, kindly – but still Steve inhaled sharply, bracing for something. Tony leant back to look at him when he explained, “that’s not actually the criteria, Steve. Not for anyone else, at least. People aren’t only trustworthy up until they keep one secret – otherwise you wouldn’t be able to trust a single person on Earth… I’ve lied. I’ve lied to you before, and kept things from you, but you never assumed that you could obviously never trust me again… I’m not saying what you did wasn’t wrong. I’m not saying you shouldn’t learn anything from it. I’m not saying it’s not a big deal if you lie to me – you really _should_ try not to do that…”

Steve smiled sadly, and nodded, so adorably earnest that Tony almost kissed him again.

“I’m just saying that you don’t have to be _perfect_ ,” he said instead. “That I know you aren’t perfect, and I trust you anyway. Because you apologised and you meant it and I believe you. Because I know you did care about my feelings that whole time. Because, actually, I understand how you got there and that you _were_ trying. I trust you with my feelings because it turns out they did always matter to you… And maybe I should have assumed all that, thinking about how well I know you… And, actually, maybe a lot of this happened because I didn’t trust you enough… I should’ve given you more benefit of the doubt. You’d earned it…”

Tony began to realise that he was straying into a topic too deep for the moment. That this was in fact the root of a whole host of things he had to say to Steve – things that he should put some serious thought into first. Because Steve deserved that too. This was something he would have to say properly, another time… But, right now, he really wanted Steve to know,

“It’s not _all_ your fault, and it’s not the end of the world – and I forgive you.”

Steve dropped his eyes and swallowed hard, clearly floored by that. Tony watched him struggle to find the words for a second or two-

Before he gave up, and kissed Tony again.

And Steve carried on kissing him as his hands came to the front of Tony’s shirt, unfastening the buttons with fast, fluid fingers. His movements were more confident as he swept his palms up over the bare skin of Tony’s back, and then over his shoulders, pushing his shirt back over his arms. Hands prickling with excitement, Tony unfastened Steve’s jeans, tugging them down over his hips as he pushed him backwards, encouraging Steve to step out of them and fall onto the bed.

Tony glanced down at him, spread out on the sheets in only his underwear, his beautiful body so perfectly displayed…

He _had_ been entertaining ideas of lying Steve out like this and doting on him completely – an idea that flared again for a moment, as he watched Steve writhe gently against the bed. He knew that it must’ve been so long since Steve got to be somewhere safe and clean and comfortable, that he must be so weary and achy and bruised. There was still a lot of appeal in the thought of wrapping Steve in blankets, carefully soothing every inch of him…

But Steve was already reaching up for him, tensing _away_ from the soft, warm bed – towards something he wanted more. Tony could _feel_ how much Steve wanted to let go, how much he wanted to be a part of this… To be _allowed_ some control… to be allowed to take.

To be trusted.

To be allowed to trust himself.

So, Tony let Steve grab him by the waist and pull him on top of him, immediately surrendering to Steve’s kisses, accepting the messier, more frantic pace that he was setting. Moaning low in his chest as Steve ground up against him, the sound muffled against Steve’s lips. Tony dropped his head to kiss Steve’s neck, sucking softly against his skin, creating a trail of little red marks along the column of his throat that faded far too quickly. Steve’s hands swept excitedly over Tony’s back, grabbing erratically at his shoulders and waist and hips, stroking over the curve of Tony’s ass just as he rocked up to meet him. Tony dug his nails into Steve’s skin as a hot friction curled tightly in the core of him, pushing a desperate gasp over his lips. _Please more._ He felt Steve push a hand down between them, fumbling slightly as he unfastened Tony’s belt, before he helped Tony wriggle free of his clothes. They carried on stealing kisses from one another the whole time, Tony pressing his lips to Steve’s shoulder and jaw and the side of his face – just, wherever he could reach.

And then, without warning, Steve grabbed a hold of Tony and threw him onto his back. A little shout of surprise was immediately smothered when Steve kissed him again, an elated swoon rolling through Tony’s head as he felt the weight of Steve pressed against him. His hips arched up of their own accord, his cock weeping against his stomach. Panting now, Steve moved to kiss Tony’s throat, running the tip of his tongue over the vein in his neck before he nipped lightly at Tony’s earlobe. Tony let go of a high, pleading whine, fidgeting up against Steve as he peppered kisses over the line of Tony’s jaw, and then down along his neck again, and then over his shoulders…

“Oh Steve, I love you,” he gasped, just because he liked saying it. He felt Steve’s lips brush over his skin when he whispered Tony’s name, dragging his palms over Tony’s sides as he moved lower down Tony’s body. He ran the flat of his tongue over Tony’s nipple, sparking an electric shock that ran through his ribs, leaving a trail of fizzing sensitivity in his wake. Whimpering, Tony made a subconscious attempt to wriggle further up the bed, lifting his hips as Steve slowly worked his way down over Tony’s stomach. His fingers threaded roughly though Steve’s hair, tugging at it – eliciting a needy little moan that Tony took a special note of-

Apparently Steve liked to have his hair pulled – and Tony liked the noise Steve made, when he did.

Steve’s hands caressed over Tony’s hips, his thumbs tracing the line of his groin, encouraging Tony to part his legs. By now Tony’s lungs were burning, an aching desperation throbbing from the small of his back to deep in his thighs. He was so tense and breathless he could barely get the words out,

“ _Please Steve.”_

And then the blessed relief of sensation, as Steve slowly took the length of him into his mouth.

Steve pushed Tony’s legs further apart as he sucked, eagerly, the back of his tongue dragging over the head of Tony’s cock as he took him right to the back of his throat. Tony was immediately flooded with a heavy, pulsing pleasure, a wave that swelled up to the very limits of him – and then ebbed back into a compulsive, stinging need. Involuntarily, Tony pulled Steve’s hair into a fist – earning a groan from Steve that he could _feel_. He bucked his hips, a desperate scream trapped in his lungs as Steve began to move against him, taking him deep and slow, like he was savouring every inch. Tony tugged at Steve’s hair again, and this time Steve responded by sucking sharply at the tip of his cock, digging his nails into the tender flesh at the curve of his waist.

“Oh God Steve,” Tony barked, running a harsh caress over the back of Steve’s neck, “Jesus, you are so good at this, _fuck-”_ was cut off by a cry, as Steve forced him back into the tight heat of his throat. The sensation was so intense that it bordered on pain, jolting up through that thick, throbbing pleasure, tensing every muscle in his body. He could feel every nerve screaming as Steve pulled back again, dragging those beautiful lips the length of his cock. And then he heard Steve groan – a low, wanton sound that was without question the hottest thing Tony had ever heard in his life. There was a sudden increase in the pressure in his hips, an obvious sharpening in the friction grinding through him-

And then Steve started to move faster.

Tony whimpered, rocking up to meet this new rhythm, one hand grabbing frantically at the sheets and the other clawing at the back of Steve’s head. He gasped for air, a pleading note in every breath, waves of pleasure crashing over the top of one another, pushing harder and harder against that limit. That frustration burned brighter with every sweep of Steve’s tongue, until eventually it consumed him, his every thought and feeling and impulse focused on this desperate pursuit for release-

He wanted so much to let go of all this tension, this longing this burden…

He wanted _Steve_ – to be able to have him, completely, without compromise or regret.

Somehow, every hurt and anxiety and angry disappointment he’d ever carried got rolled into this aching physical need. As though it was powerful and pure enough to overwhelm everything about him.

And then Steve pulled back to suck hard against the head of Tony’s cock, eliciting the sharp shock of pleasure that finally broke him. Tony let out a truly whorish moan as he came, hard, in Steve’s mouth, arching up off of the mattress as that surge of relief cut right through the centre of him, pulsing deep in the core of him for and endless, limitless moment…

At last, as Tony let go of _everything_ , something else rushed in to fill the void. A warm, light feeling, like floating on a calm ocean…

 _Happy_ …

_Comfortable…_

_Safe…_

It soaked up through him, softening his muscles, washing all the noise out of his head.

“Steve…” fell over his lips, his voice dazed and distant. And then he felt the bed shift beneath him, opening his eyes to see Steve looking over him…

And Tony loved him.

Just that.

“Oh my God,” he breathed, a dreamy smile washing over his features. Steve grinned, and dropped his head to kiss Tony’s neck, his lips so hot against Tony’s skin. Tony felt a giggle bubble up through his chest, a joyful, playful feeling welling up behind it.

“God, you are _so_ beautiful,” Steve murmured close, his hands stroking firmly over Tony’s ribs. Tony could feel the excitement still coiled in Steve’s muscles.

“I love you,” he sighed, stroking a lazy palm up along Steve’s spine. He felt Steve tense against his hand, rolling his back to meet Tony’s movements, still sucking greedy kisses along his neck.

A completely different sort of excitement began to expand in Tony’s chest, distinct from the primal urgency of before. This was a light, giddy feeling, an elated sense of freedom and a pure abundance of joy.

He loved that Steve wanted him.

He loved the thought of giving Steve what he wanted.

“I love you Tony, I’ve always loved you, I’ve always wanted you,” Steve promised, accenting every statement with another kiss, his touches still eager and possessive. When Tony wriggled back against him there was a new kind of thrill, an unlimited delight in what was rather than an excited desperation for what could be. His body was still loose and soft and sensitive, completely open to the sensations that simply ran through him now. Revelling in the way Steve’s perfect muscles tensed under his hands, and the sound of his urgent panting, and the feeling of his cock pressed hard against Tony’s thigh, all without any urgency towards anything. Teasingly, he ran a fingertip over the curve of Steve’s waist, playfully tugging at the waistband of his underwear. A little rivet of exhilaration squirmed in Tony’s stomach when Steve’s breath hitched… He _liked_ Steve like this…

“C’mere,” Tony beamed, before somewhat clumsily manoeuvring Steve onto his back. He propped himself up on his side, looking down over Steve, momentarily transfixed by the rise and fall of his chest… Until a pleading little murmur reminded Tony of how much he wanted to kiss him.

Steve leant up into it, one hand coming to the side of Tony’s face, his lips hungry and forceful against Tony’s soft, warm kisses. Tony pressed a firm hand to his shoulder, encouraging him to lie back rather than pushing him. He could feel the trembling restraint in Steve’s back, the way he fought to follow Tony’s instructions against an obvious instinct to grab him with both hands. Tony smiled against Steve’s lips as he ran his palm over his chest, letting his fingertips trace over the line of his muscles, delighting in the co-ordinated shivers he felt from Steve. Tony leant back just enough to watch Steve’s face as he stroked a rough hand over the outline of Steve’s cock, pressed hard and wet to the fabric of his underwear. He watched Steve’s eyes widen, the way he pinched his lips as though he was trying not to bite them, the little flutter of a breath caught in his throat.

“Beautiful…” Tony murmured, sliding his fingers under the waistband of Steve’s boxers and peeling them down over his hips, somewhat begrudgingly leaning further away so that he could push them over Steve’s thighs. Steve gasped, arcing his back and writhing further up the bed, his fingers flexing impatiently against the sheets. Tony smiled, appreciatively.

“You can touch, you know…” he whispered teasingly, just as he curled his hand around the length of Steve’s cock. Steve groaned, his hips snapping up into Tony’s grip as he grabbed mindlessly at his arms, greedily caressing every inch that he could reach. Tony let those simple pleasures shiver through him, his face resting in an elated grin. He kept his eyes fixed on Steve’s as he began to move his hand, indulging in the sharp edge of desperation in Steve’s expression, the heavy heat of his cock against his palm, the sensations that rolled through Tony’s back as Steve touched him…

“Tony…” Steve pleaded, fidgeting more urgently against him, his fingertips digging harder into Tony’s skin.

“I _do_ love you, Steve,” Tony promised, the words simply falling over his lips as he began to move faster. “I think you are brave, and strong, and kind, and _good_ , and I’m so sorry you don’t know that, that you didn’t _feel_ that. I am sorry Steve.”

“Oh fuck, Tony-” Steve gasped, cut short as Tony rolled his palm over the head of his cock.

“God, you are glorious like this,” Tony observed, honestly. He rolled his palm again, quicker and harsher this time, and again, and again, just _watching_ that beautiful body writhe and tense against his movements.

“Oh, Tony _please_ ,” Steve begged, “Tony, Jesus, _fuck-_ ”

Tony could feel how close he was. In a burst of inspiration, he shifted his weight, taking his hand away so that he could move down Steve’s body. Steve keened in protest, his hands reaching blindly for Tony’s shoulders as Tony straddled his legs.

And then Tony dropped his head and took the head of Steve’s cock into his mouth.

“Oh-God-yes-please-yes,” Steve babbled, one hand flying to the back of Tony’s head, stroking in time with Tony’s short, sharp motions. Tony let both palms slide up along Steve’s legs, indulging himself in the dense muscle of Steve’s thighs as he sucked him, roughly. He could feel Steve’s cock throb fuller and thicker against his lips, the bitter taste of pre-come coating Tony’s tongue. “Jesus, Tony, _oh-_ ”

Steve’s voice caught, his grip tightening sharply in Tony’s hair as he tensed up against his mouth, and came. Tony hummed softly against him, still sucking gently, swallowing until Steve collapsed back against the sheets, completely spent.

Tony’s head swam as he finally lifted his head. He had to take a moment to take a deep breath, and wait for his vision to clear-

And there was Steve.

And it wasn’t _only_ that it was as lovely as Steve had ever looked – although the sight of Steve spread open and naked on his bed, flushed and sweaty and still making pleading little noises as he gulped for air, was certainly part of the overall effect…

But it was how _real_ he looked.

How sincerely and simply _happy_ he looked, how innocently amazed and openly excited… genuine human emotions, deep and important emotions – the parts of Steve that Tony had so longed to be let into, for so long…

Through the fog in his head a little voice observed,

_If you think what you were doing an hour ago-_

And he laughed.

Steve glanced up, his eyes still soft and unfocused, his brow slightly creased by the sheer effort of lifting his head. Tony’s giggle settled into a warm smile.

“Shh, lie down,” he soothed, moving up the bed to lie beside him, letting his weight rest against Steve’s chest. Steve wrapped an arm around him, pulling him closer, and Tony felt that rush of light elation…

Oh yeah. Steve had such wonderful, strong arms, and being held in them was such an exhilarating, safe feeling, unlike anything else in the world…

Tony _remembered_ now…

“I love you,” Steve breathed, pressing a soft kiss to Tony’s forehead. Tony snuggled closer and brought his hand to rest on Steve’s chest.

“I love you too,” he smiled. He saw Steve go to say something, clearly struggling for words and still struggling for breath.

“Tony…” was as much as he managed.

“It’s okay sweetheart, take a minute,” Tony grinned. “…We’ve got time.”

*

Of course, the time they had wasn’t theirs to keep. It was destined to slip away from them at the same merciless pace, no matter what they did – all Tony could do was try to make the best of it.

He felt that the few hours they’d spent lying quietly together, trading gentle kisses and tender touches and occasional endearments, _were_ actually the best possible use of the time they had. He knew there was still so much left to talk about, but none of it felt as important as just being with Steve… _remembering_ how things used to be, before.

Remembering how things really were, and had always been, behind the veil of his pain and anger.

Tony was glad that he’d had the chance to simply be close to Steve like that. It felt like it changed things. Like maybe, when they did get around to talking, they could do it from a completely different place now. Like maybe it mattered beyond just being nice.

…Although it _had_ been nice, obviously. And _that_ felt important, after nearly a year when nothing had been nice. Tony felt rested, genuinely healed by this reprieve from all that poisonous misery. He was glad of that.

And he was glad that Steve had had a chance to rest – and that he could just be glad about that, without all the other complexities.

He was happy that Steve could have a proper shower in a clean bathroom, that he’d been able to change into clean clothes, that Tony could send him back to his team with a rucksack full of fresh supplies and personal items.

But, for all the things that Tony was pleased about, there was no stopping six am from coming – and nothing he could do about the unavoidable sadness of saying goodbye. It seemed a shame that there should be any bad feeling at all, tonight. That plunging melancholy Tony felt as Steve settled in front of the door seemed both at odds with the narrative and an evitable part of it… But at least this moment was bittersweet rather than just bitter. That was a definite step forward, from Tony’s point of view.

He saw the same mix of emotions play out on Steve’s features, before he settled on a stoic smile and said,

“…I know a lot of stuff is still really fucked up-”

“ _Pffft,_ ” Tony scoffed, with a pretend-superior shake of his head. “That was _last_ year.” And Steve laughed.

And then pursed his lips, an unspoken question creasing his forehead, _but you know what I mean_. Tony nodded.

“ _This_ year, we’ve got something we can deal with,” he promised. “And yeah, I know there’s still a lot, but we’ll work it out.”

And then there was the faintest little buzz of a text arriving.

Steve sighed and reached into his pocket, and retrieved the phone that Tony had left for him the week before. He frowned at it sadly before confirming,

“Sam’s here. Sixty seconds.”

Tony looked at him, his hair still damp from the shower, his bag dangling from his shoulder… for all his commanding strength and despite everything he’d been through, there was something so pure and innocent about Steve. A simple goodness that couldn’t be complicated by anything. He had the same nervous optimism about him now as a kid leaving home for the first time…

And God, Tony loved him.

He thought about kissing him, but he didn’t trust himself to stop after a minute – and he really couldn’t complicate Steve’s escape plan and have Sam shot down over the Tower or something. Not tonight. So, instead he stepped forward and put a tender hand over Steve’s heart, and told him.

“Stay safe. I love you.”

And Steve smiled, that same poignant sadness in his eyes, and placed his hand over Tony’s.

“I love you,” he whispered, and leant in and kissed him once, very softly.

And then it was like he was just… gone.

Tony found himself standing alone in the dark silence of his suite, his ears ringing at the sheer abundance of thoughts and feelings and… _things…_ And then his eyes fell on the glass he’d left sitting on the coffee table.

 _Well, this is surreal_ , he thought, or remembered – and laughed again at the same comparison.

He walked over to the couch and deliberately resumed his earlier position, even going as far as to pick his drink up and rest it in the same place on his knee. He let his head fall back and waited for something to hit him, for one single thought or emotion to be the first to shout out of the overwhelmed, overtired numbness singing in his head…

But no.

Eventually, Tony just smiled and accepted it. Unlike him though it was, he decided that there was no point in overthinking this tonight. That dazed and happy was just going to be it, for the moment.

Without really thinking about it he lifted his glass, gesturing a little toast to nothing in particular.

“Happy New Year,” he laughed, before swallowing the shot in a single gulp. 

...It tasted different.

And then he put the glass back on the table, along with all the complications and contingencies that he still had to deal with, and left it until the morning.

Tony had a feeling that everything would be a little bit easier in the morning. 

  
  



End file.
